


Starry nights

by Blowflyboy



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cheesy gay fluff, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Mild Language, Miles has low self-esteem, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Teenage Awkwardness, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24536284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blowflyboy/pseuds/Blowflyboy
Summary: This is a fic I’ve had partially written for like a year or so that I decided to fix up and post. Technically unfinished but it works as is.No Murkoff bs high school au!Miles and Waylon chill on the roof of Miles Jeep to star gaze and be gay.
Relationships: Waylon Park/Miles Upshur
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Starry nights

A chill air blew by, softly caressing the faces of two teenagers sprawled upon the crimson hood of a jeep. Their eyes gazing up at white specks sprinkled among a deep, rich blue. Just offset from the middle of the near-summer sky was a streak, as if someone had painted the sky with a cloud-like texture. It was a beautiful picture of the milky way. Or, just a little part of it at least.

  
A puff of smoke escaped one of the teen's chapped lips as it begun to dance and entangle itself in the night air before drifting out of sight and into the distant darkness. He feels the smaller frame of his companion scoot a bit closer, weight leaning against his side. His hand hovers awkwardly in the air, cigarette caught between his fingers, as he looks over to the other. The familiar bite of his cigarettes still nips at his taste buds as if it were currently between his lips, smoke invading his lungs. He watches blond curls smoosh against the thick, inky fabric of his hoodie. Soft angelic eyes peer into his own before he turns his head away to peer into the distance. He shakes his head and brings the cigarette to his mouth again, quickly inhaling the smoke and it’s bite before letting it back out. The smoke takes some of the taste with it into the evening air and he lets out a soft, half-hearted hum.

  
His arm finds it's way around the other, giving a quick, hard squeeze and leaving a smile apparent on both of their faces.  
"Cold?" The taller asks, cigarette still between his lips as he speaks.   
"It's a little chilly." Waylon comments softly. At this the taller gestures to the other's sleeves, they’re rolled up to his elbows with the white cuffs of a dress shirt peeking out.  
"It's not a crime to roll down your sleeves Way." The other looks up at him, green eyes narrowed in a deadpan expression. Miles' face is dark with shadows. Trying to meet his eyes is like peering into a dark room, the hood of his sweater framing his face like a doorframe.  
"So I’m not required by law to keep up my nerdy image after all!” Waylon exaggerates a surprised tone and pairs it with a wide eyed, gleeful look. A small, deep chuckle comes as a response, followed by another shake of Miles’ head.  
"That Miles Upshur boy sure is a bad influence on my dear Way way!” Miles voice comes out hoarse and squeaky, but it’s his best attempt at an impression of Waylon's grandmother. She’s a woman with a rather shrill voice who’s, unsurprisingly, not a big fan of Miles. Waylon stifles a laugh but can’t even begin to hide the smile on his face.  
"That is, quite possibly, the worst impression you've ever done." Waylon says, mouth drawn wide in a smirk. Miles places a hand over his heart,  
"Ouch. You wound me Mr. Park." He wipes a nonexistent tear from his eye and forces an ugly frown onto his face. Waylon simply shakes his head in response.

The two find themselves drifting back into a comfortable silence, eyes resting upon the twinkling stars above. The delicate, crescent moon hung among the stars, high in the sky. Despite it being a nearly paper-thin sliver the moon still casts a bright glow upon the small town resting beneath it. Waylon's eyes stray to the quaint town nestled against the small mountain they‘re parked on. In the near inky darkness of the town street lights peak from the shadows like the stars in the sky above, barely illuminating small parts of the streets and buildings. When night falls the buildings around town have to make up for the weak rays of the street lights. The dinky old movie theatre always stands out like a garish, neon lighthouse in the middle of an ocean of darkness. There’s a hospital hidden off to the far-right corner of town, surrounded in nothing but darkness past it’s dull, yellow gleam. Fortunately its placement saves Waylon's eyes from it's faded, vomit green colour which Miles often jokes that if you weren't sick already the sight of it would certainly change that. Then there was the police station, Waylon hadn't gotten a good look at it yet. It stood out like a sore thumb with paint so bright that even from the highest peak of Mount Everest one could tell it was still fresh. He recalled reading online, though he wasn’t sure where, about how it has just been finished a few days ago. The last time he'd seen it there had been plenty of scaffolding here and there, parts missing, all manner of work had sat there half completed.

"Woah, did you see that? Dude totally just ransacked that place!" Waylon was suddenly being thrown back into reality, Miles’ comment ripping him from his thoughts. He turned to Miles, blond curls bouncing and swaying at the sudden movement and simply blinked a few times. It took him a minute to process what the other had said, leaving the two in a frozen silence for a few seconds.

"Oh, sorry, I got a bit lost in thought." Waylon replies simply. Miles turns to Waylon and their eyes lock for a moment before Waylon is shifting his eyes to a spindly, leafless twig of a tree a few metres away.

"Forget about your tantalizing programming problems! I'm the only sexy little problem you need to be thinking about." Miles has a genuine, suave air despite the cheesy, arguably failed attempt at flirting. Then he winks, visible only due to the unrealistically good timing of a passing vehicle, its lights shining bright like a passing search light. Waylon snorts and looks Miles right in the eye,

"Don't get too cheesy there big boy." Waylon cringes immediately at his own use of 'big boy' while Miles' face is set ablaze. He hopes to god Waylon can’t see his face as it probably looks like a juicy, ripe tomato, albeit a ruggedly handsome one of course.

"That was uh," Waylon pauses and clears his throat as he stares, wide-eyed, at the ground.

"Arguably as cheesy." Miles comments, and Waylon just chuckles and smiles this heart warming smile. It's contagious, a gentle smile appearing on Miles' dark face.

"Fuck, Way. You're gorgeous. Somehow... You're just fucking perfect." As he speaks Miles' smile turns into a sad, little frown. He stares down to scrutinize a tiny scratch among the otherwise perfect crimson paint of the Jeep. Even as Waylon's smile deflates to a sad little smile Miles still finds this dumb nerd beside him perfect. Waylon pushes his hood away, revealing Miles tired eyes and his uneven stubble, and those tired eyes still look at him like he's his entire world. And then Waylon is leaning in, gently pressing their lips together, wrapping his surprisingly toned arms around Miles' bulkier frame. Tears had started to run down Miles' face as he kisses Waylon like it's the end of the world. Like he needs this more than anything, needs the reassurance that Waylon loves him too. It feels far too soon when Waylon is pulling away, that sad smile still on his face as he takes in a deep breath.

"You're perfect." Waylon states, voice soft and gentle. He places a kiss on one of Miles' tear ridden cheeks.

"I, uhm," Miles voice is croaky like a frog as he aggressively wipes at his cheeks. As his hands roughly rub them away a scar can be seen wrapping around the side of his hand, right under his pinky.

"Don't know why I'm crying." A small lie, he knows in the farthest reaches of his mind how he feels. He feels so unworthy even just of Waylon's friendship, let alone anything more. But he hasn't fully admitted it to himself. Who knows if he ever will. Waylon shoos Miles hands away so he can place his own on each side of the other's face.

"Miles, Miles it's okay." He gently brushes away the few tears that still continue to fall.

"It's okay to feel vulnerable. It's just you and me, you can be open," Waylon pauses to remove one hand and intertwine his fingers with Miles' rougher, thicker ones.

"And honest." He finally finishes.

Silence drifts into the air again as they sit like that for a moment, fingers locked together, distant sounds of cars driving by, and crickets chirping among the grass. The world feels calm and they enjoy its quiet song. Soon the sun will rise and it will be just another day, but something about this night will always drift among the special memories in the back of Miles mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
